


feathered fiend friend

by tennisnotensai



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempts at humour, Consort Merlin (Merlin), Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), M/M, arthur being childish, arthur vs an owl, but so is arthur, i guess this is crack???, morgana is good here, the owl is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennisnotensai/pseuds/tennisnotensai
Summary: Despite what people said, Arthur wasnotjealous of a bloody bird.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), mentions of lancelot/gwen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 195





	feathered fiend friend

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** no beta, OOCness, English is not my first language, inconsistent tenses, i am very bad at prepositions, sexual situations (I rated this E to be safe), arthur referring to a bird as an "it" when everyone else refers to the bird as a "he," i did Very Basic owl research and some details may be inaccurate
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** An old draft from 2017 that I finally managed to finish. Phew.

Archimedes, Arthur thought, was evil incarnate.

He held his arm up for the owl to land on, but of course, taking after its master, the damned bird almost always ignored non-verbal cues. Instead, it landed on his head, but not before arranging his crown as if it was making its nest more comfortable.

His people were at the throne room to make their pleas known to the king, and the infuriating bird had to choose the citizens’ day to make a nest out of his head. Arthur, being a king, had an image and reputation to maintain, but that godforsaken owl had to ruin it all.

Placing his outstretched arm to side and ignoring the stifled laughter of his people, his court, and his knights— _Those traitors!_ —Arthur growled, “Archimedes.”

Archimedes clucked in response. Strangely, it sounded like an annoyed cluck, as if it was irritated for being disturbed in its nest.

Knowing the animal, it probably was.

“Archimedes,” Arthur hissed, letting his threat be heard in his voice. Oh, yes, he is going to follow up on those threats now. After three years of dealing with humiliation from an _animal_ , Arthur has thought of several hundred ways to torture and/or kill the owl and make it have a taste of its own medicine.

(The owl was still much loved by his consort, and Arthur would be sleeping in one of the guest chambers if he harmed even a feather on that fiend.)

Thankfully, Archimedes flew from his makeshift nest to perch on his outstretched arm, and then stuck out leg in front of Arthur’s face.

Tied to the bird’s leg was a tiny scroll, his consort’s unbroken seal—a merlin behind a crown, for heaven’s sake—telling him that no unwanted eyes have read the letter.

He broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.

_Arthur,_

_I’ll be delayed for three more days. They need more time to be convinced. Aithusa and I are trying our best._

_Please take care of Archimedes. He’s been getting cranky from eating field mice for a week. He misses Camelot’s domesticated mice. I think I spoiled him a little bit._

_All my love,_

_Merlin_

_P.S. I will know if you do anything funny to my owl!_

Arthur sighed. Around him, his knights were gripping their sheathed swords, ready to spring into action in case the missive contained word about enemy forces. Pressed to the walls, his courtiers were speculating about what the letter said. In front of him, his people were waiting for him to finish whatever this business was so he could go back to attending to _their_ business.

Arthur sighed once more and shook his head. Really, all this sighing is marring his reputation as a strong leader.

“Sir Lancelot,” he called, and said knight stepped forward.

“Sire?” Lancelot asked.

He took Archimedes from his head—damned bird returned there after Arthur got the letter—and he could very well see everyone in the court room trying to muffle their laughter. Ah, the king of Camelot, ruler of the Five Kingdoms, bested by an owl. What a wonderful tale for the bards to sing.

Archimedes squawked but soon stopped its—it would always be an “it” to Arthur—flailing when Lancelot took it in his arms. Even rebellious birds couldn’t resist the charms of his first knight. It nuzzled into Lancelot’s cheek and Arthur could swear it was smirking at him as it did so.

Arthur gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Lancelot, like his consort, spoiled the bird “a little bit,” and it liked anyone who wasn’t Arthur Pendragon.

“Take the blasted owl back to the court sorcerer’s tower,” the king said, waving an arm to the general direction of the tower, “and feed it some mice. Leave enough food and water for it. See to it that it never leaves the room.”

“But sire,” Lancelot said, looking like he was about to deliver a devastating news. Really, Sir Lancelot was too nice a man. “Archimedes will…You will antagonise him further if you lock him up.”

Arthur snorted. “Let Merlin deal with it when he gets back.”

Lancelot recognised the statement as dismissal and hurried away to accomplish the king’s orders.

Arthur went back to listening to his people squabble. Citizens’ day were only fun whenever Merlin was there with him.

\--

“Sir Lancelot,” Arthur said, voice drawn taut like a sting about to snap. “Why is the owl in the training grounds? I thought you had it locked up in the tower?”

Citizens’ day didn’t end until mid-afternoon, and the last case gave him a massive headache. Old man Bernard was convinced his neighbour stole his pet goat. It took him an hour of recriminations, vitriol, and not-so-empty threats before old man Bernard remembered on his own that he had sold his beloved Gertie.

Arthur sent him to Gaius. He hoped the physician could help with the old man’s memory problems.

“Sire,” Lancelot answered, and really, how was it possible for a grown man to look like a five-year-old about to be scolded for stealing sweetmeats? How did Lady Guinevere resist this look on her husband’s face?

Arthur raised an imperious eyebrow, prompting the knight to go on.

“I made a promise to Merlin when he first got Archimedes. I promised him that I…” Lancelot shifted on his toes and looked everywhere but Arthur.

“That you what?” Arthur prompted when the silence went on.

“That I…”

Behind them, the knights, who were supposed to be sparring, were trying their damnedest to look like they were not eavesdropping. But they were too obvious and they knew it.

“That you what, Lancelot?” Arthur said, making his irritation known. What was it that Lancelot promised Merlin that made him this uncomfortable?

“That I’ll…protect Archimedes from you, sire, whenever he’s away.”

“That you’ll…What?”

The knights guffawed, abandoning their pretence. Gwaine’s laughter was the loudest—and most offensive—of them all.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Gwaine said. “We all know where Merlin’s heart truly lies.”

The knights laughed at Gwaine’s joke, and damnation, even Lancelot was chuckling. Which he soon stopped when Arthur glared at him.

“There you have it, sire,” said Lancelot. “We both know how terribly attached Merlin is to Archimedes, so I cannot follow your orders. I did give him mice and water, though.”

Archimedes hooted from his position on Lancelot’s shoulder, as if taunting Arthur. _Your consort pays more attention to me,_ it seemed to say.

The king gritted his teeth.

_Oh, the game is on, you stupid bird._

==

Despite what people said, Arthur was _not_ jealous of a bloody bird. So what if the first thing Merlin did when he got home was look for that infernal creature?

“Hey there, little one,” Merlin cooed, despite the owl not being little. Archimedes bristled and looked embarrassed, but it was also smirking—could birds smirk?—at Arthur.

He scowled. Yup, definitely not jealous, because sooner rather than later, he would strangle that bird and—

“Did you eat something sour?” Merlin asked, hands still ruffling the owl’s feathers.

“Did I what?” Arthur replied. Eloquently, thank you very much.

“You look like you’ve just eaten something sour.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Must be because of some bird.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. He strode to the window and released the bird into the sky, leaving him and Arthur alone in the throne room.

The sight of the wretched creature flying away looked sweeter than spring’s first blossom.

“I am ready to give my report, sire,” Merlin said coyly as he stepped closer to him.

“Oh?” was yet another one of his eloquent replies.

“Aithusa is sleeping in her cave. We’ve had quite a journey, and I’m very tired.” Merlin’s hands were fisted on Arthur’s shirt, and their faces were mere centimetres apart. “My kin will come out of hiding and arrive in Camelot within a week.”

“Hmmm,” Arthur replied—yes, eloquently—as he nipped his consort’s jaw.

“And— _Oh, yes, ah_ —And they will—”

At that point, Merlin’s words left him as Arthur nibbled on that place on his neck, and his Arthur’s hands were drifting lower, and lower and lower and—

Someone cleared their throat and they sprang apart, though they didn’t release their hold on each other.

A very red Sir Leon had apparently been tasked to announce the presence of the knights. Behind him, Gwaine waggled his eyebrows and said, “Well, don’t stop on our account.”

Arthur scowled and Merlin just laughed.

Lancelot was covering his face, Percival was admiring the ceiling, and Elyan was checking the dirt under his nails—never mind that he was wearing gloves at the moment.

“Can it wait?” Arthur asked.

“I-I-It can wait, sire,” Leon answered.

“We are not to be disturbed,” Arthur said, dragging Merlin away by hand, presumably to his chambers.

He didn’t need to hear Leon answer _Yes, sire!_ Right now, his husband was back after eleven days, and that owl had gone to wherever in damnation it had gone to.

It may have received Merlin’s attention first, but Arthur would always have the last. After all, it was him whom Merlin will always come home to.

\--

Things were going well. Spectacularly well, in fact. He was naked, Merlin was in an equal state of undress under him, and his tongue was busy doing things with Merlin’s tongue and his fingers was stretching his consort open and—

_Hoot, hoot._

—he added one more finger in and—

_Hoot, hoot._

—he removed his fingers to dip them in oil and—

_Hoot, hoot, hoot!_

“That bloody bird, I swear to God!” Arthur cried, upending the vial of oil onto Merlin’s stomach.

“What the hell, Arthur?” Merlin said, sitting up and spreading the oil further.

“You have to do something about that owl,” Arthur said, his face red with either fury or exertion—or both.

“Owl? Wha—Oh, hey, Archimedes.”

Merlin stretched his arm out, and Archimedes flew from its perch on the window to the proffered arm.

“Seriously? In the middle of things, Merlin? Seriously?”

Merlin patted Archimedes’ head and told it, “Archimedes, fly away now. We’re doing something. The king will eat you for dinner if you don’t go.”

The owl turned its head into an almost full 360 degrees, giving its glare an added effect of fright. It would have been scary had Arthur not been its recipient.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” Arthur asked, a pleading tone almost audible in his voice. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Beside him, Merlin chuckled and shooed the owl away. Archimedes hooted angrily and flew in a flurry of feathers.

“Why were your windows open in the first place?” Merlin asked, rubbing circles on Arthur’s arms. “Are we inviting assassins in today?”

Arthur snorted. “It’s too hot in this room. Besides, you’ve already warded all the openings.”

Merlin groaned. “Arthur—”

“I know, I know, I won’t depend on magic for everything. I just forgot to close it, okay? Happy?”

Merlin gave him a quick kiss. “Yeah.”

“So…where were we?”

\--

“I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you,” Arthur said.

Merlin was lying beside him (almost on top of him, really), his head on Arthur’s chest, and Arthur’s fingers were playing with his hair. The sheets were pooled around their waists and the still open window was letting in the fresh afternoon breeze.

“About what?” Merlin mumbled sleepily.

“Your owl.”

“Hm? What about him?”

“It likes everyone but me.”

“Only because he thinks I love you more than I love him.”

“That’s already a given.”

Merlin scoffed. “I love you both equally, but in different ways. Archimedes was just an owlet when we found him, remember? You found him all alone in a hole in a tree when we were out hunting.”

“I remember that.”

“I raised him. I think he thinks me as his…mother or something, and he’s probably jealous of the affection I give you.”

“But why just me? It hated me right from the start. It got along well with everyone but me. The reason why it resents me so escapes my understanding.”

“ _He_ doesn’t totally hate you. Sure, _he_ might be jealous of the time I spend with you, but _he_ has protected you several times in the past, did _he_ not?”

Arthur ignored Merlin’s emphasis about the pronouns for his owl and recalled the various instances where Archimedes saved him from death. It caught in its talons a poisoned arrow intended for him. It scared away a would-be attacker behind him with its ungodly shriek. It fended away creatures of magic attempting to harm him. Arthur has never liked it, but he had to admit it saved his life several times before.

“That’s true,” Arthur said, “but it only did those because you made it promise to protect me.”

Merlin disentangled himself from Arthur’s embrace and sat up, locking eyes with him. “Yes, I did ask him to keep an eye on you and your knights—but you specifically—but I never asked him to risk his life for you.”

A year ago during their travel to a far-off Druid camp, one of the knights—Arthur can’t remember who—accidentally disturbed the lair of a vicious serpent. Its fangs would have sunk into Arthur’s thigh had Archimedes not intervened. The serpent bit the owl instead, and Merlin spent two sleepless weeks nursing Archimedes back to health using his magic and the help of the Druids.

“Archimedes risked his life for you out of his own volition. I never told him or asked him to. He always swoops in and directs danger away from you, not only because he knows I would be inconsolable should anything bad happen to you, but also because you’re the one who found him. You were the one who climbed that tree and took him from that burrow—that burrow where he was on the verge of death because of cold and hunger. You bring him mice from your hunting trips, and you protect him as much as he protects you.”

“Only because you’d be insufferable if anything happens to it.”

“Exactly. Archimedes feels the same way. You don’t like each other—mostly because you’re competing for my time and affection, which is bloody stupid—but you also tolerate each other for my sake.

“Besides,” Merlin said as he cupped Arthur’s face in his hands, “I would never ask him or anyone to risk their lives for you, because that would be unnecessary. I would die for you, Arthur Pendragon, and no one, human, animal, or any creature on this world, should ever need to sacrifice themselves for you when I would readily do it myself.”

“Don’t you ever say that,” Arthur said, suddenly sitting up. “Never, Merlin.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say something but Arthur’s mouth covered his, and any other protests were swallowed by Arthur’s invading tongue.

==

Had Gwaine been in the room with them, Arthur would bet Excalibur he would spend the night laughing to his death. Okay, maybe not Excalibur, but such is the state of their dinner in Arthur’s chambers that he was certain Gwaine would not stop laughing. Thankfully, the rambunctious knight wasn’t with them because it was a private dinner with just him and Merlin…and Archimedes.

The only sounds heard were the scraping of utensils against plate and the owl’s occasional hoots. The owl was on a free-standing perch, and it glared at Arthur with unblinking eyes. Arthur glared back, not looking at his plate or goblet while he ate and drank. Thankfully, no food fell and no wine spilled.

This sight would most definitely amuse Gwaine, and Arthur could already imagine the jibes that will come out of the knight. But he would rather suffer his teasing than square off with the only thing capable of tearing a willing Merlin away from him.

Merlin’s exasperated sigh broke the strained silence. “Arthur, stop glaring Archimedes.”

“He did it first!” Arthur replied. He would have pointed an accusing finger at it, but he was holding a knife and that was what he pointed with instead.

“And put that knife down,” Merlin admonished. “And you,” he said, looking at the bird. “Stop teasing Arthur.”

“Teasing? You call that teasing? Merlin, love, it had been positively bullying me ever since it came to Camelot. I don’t care whether it saved my life before or not—I demand to know what its problem with me is.”

Merlin beckoned Archimedes with an outstretched arm, and the owl hopped from its perch to Merlin. It cooed as Merlin patted its head.

“Archimedes,” Merlin said. He talked to it like a mother talked to her child. “You know I love you, right?”

It tilted its head in response.

“And you know I love Arthur, and I know you love Arthur too.”

Arthur snorted at his consort’s last statement but Merlin ignored him.

“It would really make me happy if you got along with him.”

The owl squawked and Arthur scoffed, but Merlin didn’t pay any attention to their reactions.

“I love you both just as much as the other, only that it’s a different kind of love. So you should stop competing with each other because this is not a contest.

“Archimedes.” Merlin fixed his owl a stern glare. “I know it’s fun, but stop trying to get a rise out of Arthur every time, okay? And you,” he jabbed a finger onto Arthur’s chest, “should learn to control your temper and stop being jealous of my pet. It’s not as if I’m neglecting you.”

Arthur huffed and crossed his arms. All that was missing was a tongue sticking out of his mouth to complete the very picture of childishness. Merlin rolled his eyes at Arthur’s antics.

Really, if Gwaine were there, he would never let Arthur live it down.

\--

“…and then Archimedes raked his talons across Arthur’s chest and ripped his shirt. They only broke the fight because we intervened,” said Gwaine, gesticulating exaggeratedly. “Our mighty king, bested by an owl.”

Arthur cleared his throat to announce his presence, and his knights scrambled to stand before him.

“Sire,” Gwaine said. “How are your wounds?”

His knights suddenly coughed all at once, and Arthur had no doubt they were trying to mask their laughter, albeit rather poorly.

Last night, after Merlin lectured him and that fiendish creature, their dinner resumed without any noteworthy occurrence until a servant knocked and delivered a message from Gaius, saying he needed to consult Merlin about something. And with Merlin not around to pacify two opposing hot-blooded parties, the torn drapes in Arthur’s chambers were the least of the damage.

Merlin had just been returning from Gaius’s and ran into Gwaine, who had picked the shortest straw and was thus designated the unenviable task of disturbing the king and his consort in their dinnertime to deliver a message. The scene they came to would have inspired the painters and poets of the Five Kingdoms—Archimedes, his wings spread into their full span, hovered above the king, who held a protective arm over his face.

Gwaine, predictably, burst into laughter. It was uncanny how Arthur had just been thinking of him, and now his thoughts became reality. He was positive he heard his consort snicker before they stopped the fight, but not until the owl from hell scratched Arthur’s chest.

“Healing. Thank you very much for your enquiry, Sir Gwaine,” replied Arthur icily, which only made the knights chuckle discreetly. “Now, regarding the message you delivered last night, Merlin has successfully met with the other dragonlords. My sister and her druid camp should meet them and return home, and—”

The familiar weight of Archimedes settled on his head, and Arthur could feel its claws scraping ever so lightly upon his scalp. It shouldn’t feel familiar to him, yet it was, considering how the owl seemed to have made the top of his head its designated landing spot.

The knights exchanged amused glances, no doubt thinking about their king being no match against his consort’s pet. And Arthur would have violently shaken his head to get the bird out, if only he didn’t care about his dignity and his promise to Merlin last night.

“Archimedes,” he said, holding out his arm. The owl landed on it without a fuss as if it had been doing that its entire life.

The look on the knights’ faces was payment enough for all the times they made fun of Arthur, and he directed a satisfied smirk towards a gaping Gwaine.

Last night, he and Archimedes, in front of Merlin, made a pact that they would get along for the court sorcerer’s sake. It didn’t mean they had to like each other, but for the person they both loved, they were willing to compromise.

Tied to Archimedes’ leg was scroll from his consort, who, with Aithusa’s help, had flown to meet his kin when they arrived at Camelot’s border. He unrolled the scroll and was relieved to know that Merlin has met with Morgana, and they, together with the druids and the dragonlords, should arrive at the castle before the day ended.

“Sir Leon, kindly tell Audrey to prepare a feast for eighty people,” Arthur said as he pocketed the scroll.

Leon, who was gawking at Archimedes peacefully perching on Arthur’s arm, took a few moments to ask, “Eighty, sire? And on such a short notice?”

“Have Merlin’s apprentices help the kitchen maids.”

“Y-yes, sire.”

Leon dashed across the room and Arthur stuck his arm out, making Archimedes fly.

\--

Morgana’s eyes widened to a comical degree, and Arthur didn’t bother hiding his laughter. It was just him, his consort, his sister, his most trusted knights, and the owl in the council room, and there was no need for pretences of proper decorum. The feast ended an hour ago and their guests have already retired to the chambers prepared for them.

“Since when?” she asked, wide eyes darting from a simpering Arthur to an Archimedes permitting the king to pet its head.

“Since last night, sister dear,” came the reply.

Morgana took her seat beside Merlin and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“They’re always fighting,” Merlin explained. “Something had to be done.”

Still, Morgana looked dubiously at them. And who could blame her, when everyone in the Five Kingdoms knew about the king of Camelot’s antagonistic relationship with his consort’s pet owl?

Arthur was a king, and kings shouldn’t be limited to just conquering lands; they should be able to conquer hearts as well. It may have taken him quite a while to be on good terms with the owl, but for Merlin, he would do anything.

However, he was surprised by Archimedes’ willingness to be civil to him, but that was a good sign. It meant that the owl loved Merlin as much as Arthur loved him.

“So what’s the news, Morgana?” Arthur asked.

His sister went into a detailed explanation of what happened from her arrival to the druid camp until they met with the dragonlords before arriving at Camelot.

During Morgana’s report, Archimedes flew to Merlin’s shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. The contented look on its face as it leaned into Merlin was making Arthur jealous, and he wanted to trade places with it and be the one snuggling into Merlin instead.

As Arthur watched this proceeding from the corner of his eye, it hit him right then and there why the owl entered into this truce with him—Archimedes, at any time, place, and occasion, could approach Merlin and be affectionate with him to its heart’s content, yet Arthur could only be affectionate with his husband under certain circumstances and company. With public displays of affection, there was no contest at all because Archimedes would certainly win it, and the only reason why it agreed to this truce, besides their shared love for the court sorcerer, was because Arthur could never be as openly affectionate with Merlin as it can. He was king and must observe propriety at all times, and being an owl didn’t come with such restraints.

And Arthur just realised it, but the reason why he was jealous of the owl—okay, he would admit he was jealous—was not because it stole Merlin from him, but because it can snuggle up to Merlin wherever and whenever it liked.

_Damn it all!_

“—and everything should be settled then. Arthur, are you listening? Arthur? Arthur!” said Morgana, startling Arthur from his thoughts.

Arthur was seething and his mouth was set in a dangerous scowl. Archimedes, if animals were capable of it, was positively smirking, and Arthur knew that the nuzzle it gave Merlin was deliberate; it knew Arthur just realised the reason for his jealousy, and Archimedes was enjoying flaunting the privileges of being an animal.

_Curse you, you damned bird. I’ll show you._

\--

To discuss the formalisation of the alliance between Camelot, the druids, and the dragonlords, Camelot’s key rulers gathered in the throne room the next day. There was the king, of course, the court sorcerer, the Lady Morgana, the king’s most trusted knights, the councilmen, and the representatives of the dragonlords and the druids. They all couldn’t fit at the round table in the council room, so they convened at the throne room instead.

Though if you ask Sir Gwaine, it shouldn’t be called a “throne room” that day, because the thrones where the king and his consort would have sat on were replaced by a, well, a chaise longue. A méridienne chaise lounge, to be exact.

“Uh, Your Majesty?” Gauis said, eyeing the king and his consort with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, Gaius?” Arthur replied lackadaisically as he plucked a grape from a bowl.

And Gaius, usually not having difficulties speaking his mind, carefully said, “Should…should we leave, sire?”

“Oh? Why?” the king asked as he held out a grape to his consort’s mouth.

“Arthur.…” Merlin said, shaking his head at the proffered grape. Arthur ate the grape instead and Merlin continued, “Could you please let me sit properly so I could possibly regain my dignity?”

“But we’re comfortable here,” came Arthur’s childish reply.

Arthur was sitting against the raised end of the chair as if he was in his private quarters. His right hand was busy plucking grapes from a bowl on nearby table placed there for that sole purpose, while his left arm encircled Merlin’s waist.

“You’re comfortable and I’m not,” said Merlin, trying to extricate himself from his husband’s hold.

Arthur clamped down on Merlin’s waist. His eyes scanned the room, and he smirked when he finally spotted a fuming Archimedes perched on one of the high windows.

Arthur tossed a grape and captured it with his mouth without looking, chewing ever so slowly. He intended to ruffle a certain owl’s feathers, literally and figuratively. Another grape landed into his waiting mouth, and then another, and then another, until everyone in the throne room but Arthur had to crane their necks to see what the king was staring at with such a smug smile.

“Really, Arthur?” Merlin said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you.”

Arthur tossed another grape, but it never fell into his mouth because Archimedes swooped in and flapped its wings, creating a small gust of wind that blew the grape away.

Merlin finally succeeded in disentangling himself from Arthur and stood up, allowing the owl to land on his shoulder. Arthur was met with twin glares from Merlin and his pet, and he directed a shrug towards the animal.

“This has gone too far,” Merlin said. “To think that the king himself would allow such needless rivalry encroach into his professional business and drag me into it.”

“Maybe you should discipline your pet a bit more,” Arthur said. “I’ve always ignored its antics, but it has gone on for too long.”

“Archimedes is perfectly civil to everyone but you. I’ve explained to you the possible reasons why, and you _promised_ me you would try to ignore your differences.”

“It’s your pet bird’s fault, not mine,” Arthur said. “It especially enjoys gloating to me that he can monopolise your time at will. Besides, what is a _husband_ compared to a beloved pet? The pet takes precedence, obviously. And what wrong could it do? It’s animal and it operates on instinct; it can’t tell the difference between right and wrong. So it’s clear that when there’s a problem, it’s always its owner’s—or in this case, its owner’s husband’s—fault, right?”

Merlin gritted his teeth and Archimedes, perched on Merlin’s shoulder, postured as if it was about to attack its prey. Everyone else in the throne room exchanged uneasy glances.

Merlin turned around and addressed the people. “I’m sorry, everyone, for that display. Rest assured it will not happen again. In fact, to make sure that it will not be happening again today, I will be listening to the proceedings from my tower. Good day, ladies and gentlemen.”

And then the court sorcerer and his owl vanished before anyone could blink.

There was an awkward silence in the throne room until Arthur cleared his throat. “Well then, let’s continue.”

“Looks like the king will be sleeping in the guest chambers tonight,” Arthur heard someone, presumably Gwaine, say.

He ignored it and took a calming breath, then sat on the chaise longue with as much dignity as he could muster. “Gaius, you were saying something about medical supplies?”

\--

Arthur arranged the pillows on his bed—his own bed, not a bed in the guest chambers ( _“Take that, Gwaine!”)_ —when he heard a knock on the door.

It was a physically and emotionally taxing day, and Arthur wanted to do nothing but sleep on a bed. A cold and empty bed that night, but still a bed.

He was surprised to see his consort standing outside.

“Gwen talked to me,” Merlin said in lieu of a greeting, “and I think you might be right.”

Arthur looked around for signs of a feathered fiend, making Merlin sigh.

“He’s not here,” Merlin said. “I left him in the tower with strict directions not to come out unless I summon him or it was a life-or-death situation.”

Arthur opened the door to let his husband come in. “What did Gwen say?”

“That I should try to see it your way.”

“You should.”

“But have you seen it my way? Maybe if—”

“Merlin, love, I have seen it your way since you took Archimedes in. I have suffered its taunts, its challenges, its, frankly, declarations of war. I have competed with it for your time and affection. I have tolerated all its antagonistic actions towards me. Did I complain? Every godforsaken time. Did you do something about it? You did. But it won’t be long before that beast from damnation would revert to its fiendish nature and torment me once more. And then I would complain, and you would chastise it and me. And the cycle would repeat.”

Arthur didn’t notice that he was huffing and puffing, or that he had raised his voice. He only noticed Merlin staring at him wide-eyed, as if only realising just how aggrieved his husband was regarding his beloved owl.

The king ran a hand through his hair before sighing. He took Merlin’s hands in his and invited him to sit down. He rubbed circles into his consort’s hands, kissing each knuckle with a silent apology.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

Merlin shook his head. “I…I think I should be the one apologising. I knew you two aren’t on the best terms, but I did nothing to remedy that.”

“Hush now. I’m at fault too, for letting its actions get to me.”

Merlin sucked in a breath. “I’ll try talking to him.”

Arthur blinked owlishly—no pun intended. “Darling,” he said apprehensively, “I know you’re the most powerful sorcerer in the land, but can you…Can you really talk to animals?”

Merlin chuckled and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s cheek. “I cannot speak their language, no, but my magic is of the seas, the air, and the earth. It’s the very thread woven into the fabric of this land, so yes, I can understand them, to a certain degree.”

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat. He knew Merlin was powerful, but to hear him talk about just how powerful his magic was awoken…things inside him. But their conversation wasn’t over, so he furrowed his brows and asked, “Then it must have talked a lot about me.”

“Oh yes he does. Usually how much you eat when you think you’re alone.”

The king wrinkled his nose. “What else does your pet say about me?”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, an impish smile forming on his lips. “You’re only worried about what he’s saying about you after three years?”

“This is the first time you’ve mentioned you can talk to animals!”

“Not talk. _Communicate_.”

Arthur scowled, not understanding whatever distinction existed between “talk” and “communicate.” It didn’t matter to him; it meant the same to him. “I just…I want to communicate with your owl, find out what does it have against me.”

Merlin smiled warmly, making the king melt. “That could be arranged.”

==

Arthur was in, perhaps, the most uncomfortable moment of his life. It didn’t compare to the awkward dinners with his half-sister and their father, God rest his soul. The late King Uther had a talent for discomfiting anyone, and Arthur was convinced that a part of his father’s soul resided in the creature that stared unblinkingly at him.

Archimedes was on the opposite end of the rather modest table in Arthur’s chambers. They had been staring at each other for a good half hour without exchanging words. The owl tracked every movement Arthur made, from the steepling of his fingers to the rise and fall of his chest.

At least King Uther made attempts at (awkward) small talk, and he and Morgana were polite enough to respond. Archimedes was seemingly content in making Arthur as uncomfortable as possible.

Arthur groaned, slapping his hands lightly on the table. He muttered, “This isn’t working.”

Maybe he should have accepted Merlin’s offer to mediate their conference, but Arthur wanted to do this alone. He needed to get to the heart of matter, and maybe waiting for the owl to…do something so they could get started was a stupid decision. Just because his consort could communicate with animals didn’t mean Arthur could too.

The king leaned back in his seat. “So. Archimedes. I know you can understand me, and you’re going to tell me—whichever method you prefer—why you hate me so much.”

Archimedes, predictably, didn’t answer. It pinned Arthur to his seat with its large, watchful eyes, never once straying. After a half-hour staring contest with an owl, normal people would surely be at the end of their wits, but Arthur had been competing with Archimedes for three years that half an hour didn’t seem too long.

As a king, he had better things to do than lock eyes with a bird, but being a monarch also meant being able to do whatever he wanted.

The silence and their staring contest were broken when a knock sounded from Arthur’s door. He gave strict orders not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency, so Arthur braced himself for whatever news awaited on the other side of his chamber doors.

As he expected, there was indeed a message. But contrary to his expectation, it was a page boy who bore the news; he was carrying a small tray with an unopened roll of letter addressed to the king. Arthur expected to have one of his knights, or Gaius or Merlin, or Morgana or even Gwen, to carry the news, but it was a page boy he hasn’t seen before.

And Arthur knew each and every one of the castle servants.

One may not have expected it from a king, but that was precisely the reason why Arthur knew all the castle servants—because he was their king and they were his loyal subjects. And what kind of king would he be if he didn’t at least familiarise himself with his own castle staff?

He knitted his eyebrows and asked the page boy, “May I help you?”

“S-Sire!” the page boy replied. “I-I have been told to deliver this urgent news to you!”

Arthur looked at the nervous boy with wary eyes. The boy was trembling, as if the lightest gust of wind would blow him away. “Have you not been told that I am not to be disturbed?”

“S-S-Sire,” said the boy. He look like he was about to asphyxiate at any moment. “I-It’s urgent.…”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And from whom did this message come from?”

The boy gulped. “From the physician, sire.”

“Gaius?”

If it really were an urgent message from Gaius, the man himself would have delivered the message to Arthur and not send someone else. Urgent messages tend to be of sensitive matter, and if it really were important and confidential, there was no way Gaius would send a bumbling page boy.

Arthur made a show by putting a hand on his chin and resting his elbow on his other hand. “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted, young man. I know every servant in this castle, and I do not know you.”

The boy’s hands shook, and the roll of letter almost slid out of the tray. “I-I’m new, sire. Started just this morning, that I did….”

Arthur nodded. “Hm. I see. And they sent someone new for this high-profile errand?”

“T-They said it’d be good experience, sire….”

“And who is this ‘they’?”

“They…They…The…”

The scared look from the boy’s eyes was immediately replaced by a steely glint. Arthur thought it looked foreign on him, and only years of battlefield training and experience made Arthur dodge the swing of the boy’s hand.

The boy’s hand was clutching something. Arthur couldn’t see what it was in the candlelight, but whatever it was, it must have been something light and small, because when Archimedes swooped in to, well, “fight” the boy, Arthur didn’t hear anything, not even the clatter of the tray carrying the letter.

Archimedes clawed at the boy’s arms and was about to probably pluck his eyes out when Merlin burst into the scene, huffing.

“I felt the wards break,” said Merlin in between breaths. His gaze flitted between Archimedes—who was still battling the boy—and to Arthur, who was just…confused.

Merlin came up to him and cupped his face. “Are you all right?”

Behind them, Archimedes let out an ear-piercing screech as the boy grunted.

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, Pendragon!” the boy cried before vanishing into thin air.

Archimedes landed into a nonplussed-looking Merlin’s shoulder.

“What, you’re not concerned for my safety?” asked Arthur in mock hurt. “You wound me, husband.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You know I’m always concerned for your safety. But the wards broken were the easiest to break, and my apprentices could easily patch them up. I rushed here after I felt malevolent energy cross the threshold I placed leading to your quarters. Besides,” said Merlin as he petted the owl, “If—heavens forbid—anything bad really happened, Archimedes will buy me some time.”

Arthur snorted. “You think I can’t protect myself?”

Merlin smirked. “Not from an owl, no.” And then he crouched as his eyes scanned the floor, probably looking for whatever weapon the boy held.

After a few seconds, Arthur saw a thin silvery thing hover in the air.

“Poisoned needle,” Merlin said, his eyes gold.

With all the past attempts on his life, Arthur had long since stopped questioning the methods his would-be killers chose. Merlin could easily trace who cast which spells. The same could not be said for who would have administered the poison, especially when they have used a glamour spell to disguise themselves.

“Think the boy used a glamour spell?” Arthur asked.

“He did,” Merlin answered. He searched inside his robes for something, and when he apparently couldn’t find what he was looking for, he sighed, and looked at the poisoned needle still hovering in the air.

Merlin’s eyes glowed gold once more, and a small barrier formed around the needle. Merlin didn’t need to say out loud simple spells any longer—he was _that_ powerful. One of these days, Arthur was certain Merlin would be able to change the weather with nothing but a blink.

“I’ll take this back to Gaius,” Merlin said, “and you two can continue what you were doing.”

Arthur sighed.

So his night wasn’t over yet, it seemed.

==

Nothing notable happened last night. Archimedes remained inexorable, and Arthur remained stubborn. Their staring contest ended when Merlin returned to the chambers and let owl out of the window for its nightly hunt.

Breakfast was a more pleasant experience, especially with the owl not yet back from its hunt. It made Arthur more chipper than usual, but for some reason, Merlin too was acting more chipper than usual.

“What’s the matter with you?” Arthur asked as Merlin smiled through a mouthful of buttered bread. “Not that I’m not happy when you’re happy, but you’re happier than usual, and seriously, it’s starting to creep me out.”

“A lot of things, husband dear,” said Merlin. “The poison from the needle wasn’t strong enough to kill a mouse, let alone a grown man. I think I discovered the identity your visitor from last night, and how he got inside the castle. And once again, Archimedes has proven that he does like you.”

Arthur scowled. He sipped his water then asked, “And how did it prove that?”

Merlin swallowed his bread before answering, “He attacked the intruder last night. As he always does to your would-be assassins.”

“If that’s the only basis,” Arthur said as he speared a sausage, “then it has a funny way of showing its affection.”

“My pet owl has proven once again that he’ll protect you when I’m around, and that makes me happy.”

“Well it doesn’t make me happy,” Arthur said petulantly as he speared another sausage with the force of Excalibur cutting through an enemy. “It loves bullying me and rubbing into my face that it can cuddle with you wherever and whenever. How would that make me happy, huh?”

As Arthur ate his brutally skewered sausage, he heard the telltale flapping of wings, and sure enough, not even a minute later, there was Archimedes swooping inside the window.

However, instead of landing on its perch or Merlin’s shoulder, it hovered in front of him, a dead mouse clutched on its beak.

Arthur grimaced. “I thought you trained—”

Archimedes opened its beak, the dead mouse landing on Arthur’s plate, before perching on Merlin’s shoulder, where it affectionately nuzzled its owner’s cheek.

Merlin chuckled as he ruffled the stupid owl’s feathers. “I told you, he likes you!”

Arthur, with his face red with anger, stood up and threw his knife on the table. “And how does dropping a dead mouse on my breakfast constitute to liking me?!”

“Husband dear, have you forgotten?” Merlin said, snickering as he sat calmly on his chair. “Owls show affection by providing prey.”

“But a dead mouse? On top of my sausages? _My breakfast_?!”

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Merlin said, his hand still petting that fiend, “and I have only accepted just now that this is how Archimedes shows his affection for you—by annoying you.”

“Oh I _am_ annoyed,” said Arthur as he slowly advanced towards the bird.

“Archimedes is more mine than yours.” Merlin whispered something to the owl, and it flew away and landed on its perch. “And owls are territorial creatures.”

“So am I,” Arthur replied with a hint of a growl on his voice.

Merlin smirked. “He will protect you, and he will protect me from you. At least that’s how I’m reading his behaviour. Just like a dog being possessive of its owner.”

“So you’re saying I’m a dog?”

Merlin stood up from his chair and stood in front of Arthur, blocking his view of the owl. “Archimedes brings me prey all the time. He sometimes brings prey for the knights. He once placed a dead mouse on Morgana’s dresser, and then on Gwen’s. And then in the potion Gaius was brewing. This was the first time he presented you with one. It’s a huge progress, Arthur.”

Arthur was still bristling, but he wasn’t out for the owl’s blood anymore. At least not for now. “I would hardly call a dead mouse progress.”

“Come, let’s eat at the kitchen,” Merlin said, dragging him away by the hand. “I’m sure they still have breakfast food. Maybe I’ll even let you snuggle with me.”

Before Merlin could completely haul him away from his chambers, Arthur looked at the bird, which was grooming itself on its perch. It hardly looked antagonistic in that moment, and Arthur would even dare say that it looked sort of adorable if he didn’t know what diabolical things it could do.

Arthur’s gaze transferred to the dead mouse on his breakfast. Merlin was right. It was indeed progress for their…working relationship.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He let his consort pull him towards the kitchen, and thought that after Archimedes saved his life last night, maybe it did deserve some reward.

Maybe Arthur could get him a thank-you gift.

**Author's Note:**

>  **A/N:** When I started writing this on 2017, I, as usual, didn't know how the story would go. I've made several attempts over the last three years to finish this, and now that I did, I'm not sure if this was what 2017 me had in mind, but this was what 2020 me managed to make ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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